


LOG 9999

by CHEVY_IMPALA_1967



Category: SCP Foundation, Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Other, creature!Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 05:36:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 4,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4127104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CHEVY_IMPALA_1967/pseuds/CHEVY_IMPALA_1967
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Told entirely in logs - Dean Winchester finds and captures SCP 9999 "Castiel".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Personal Log 05-02-2008

**Author's Note:**

> This is entirely experimental. It'll be a little messy and all over the place, but please hang in there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is still a work in progress - so there will be random inserts of chapters, reposting and deleting of chapters, etc., becuase AO3's drafting system sucks. Apologies in advance.

8:48PM

When I was four years old, Dad told me to grab my little brother and run. My pajamas kept catching on my toes while I held my brother in my arms. He screamed for a little while and waved his sausage legs around, but I kept on running till I saw the firefighters. I thought one day I’d be like them. When I was four years old, my mom burnt up on the ceiling and the Winchester family started hunting the baddies that go bump in the night.

It took years for Dad to find the thing that killed her. He called it the Yellow Eyed Demon, but the Men of Letters call it SCP-6661. They told him a lot of unexplained ‘supernatural’ stuff could be chalked up to SCP activity, and they gave him a how to manual on capture and cataloging. Dad and the Men of Letters bagged and tagged the fucker just before he died.

Dad always told us to write down everything because, someday, someone out there might need our experiences. There’s a big library in the Bunker where all the personnel past and present keep their books. When we were kids, he would read stories from the journals. The good guys killed the monsters every time. Sammy thought they were just stories until he turned 16 and almost drowned from the inside out. Dad didn’t leave him alone with the SCP anymore after that.

I made a deal with an SCP a few months ago. Six, to be exact. It had the power to bring my brother back but it costs another life. Yeah, stupid, but that’s the Winchester way. The world needs Sammy more than it needs me. So I gave the SCP what it wanted, and it’s going to drag me back to its home for harvesting.

I don’t know what that means, but I can’t let myself think about it. It was worth it.

I can hear it following me now that we’re on this case. SCP-6616. Crowley, it calls itself. It’s so close I can hear it breathing on my neck. I’m going to die today.

Dean Winchester, 01-0240-079-1


	2. Personal Log 09-18-2008

Sunrise(?)

I woke up outside of a gas station. I was dripping in my own blood and sweat, and I had no idea where I was. The place was empty and all the windows were broken. I could hear a soft…something in the back of my head. It sounded like a mosquito.

I’m lucky the place had a pad and paper. Writing all this down helps me sort it out. The newspaper tells me I’ve been gone for four months, but it feels like four hours.

I saw flashes from before. There’s a lot of silver and red when I close my eyes. The taste in my mouth is bitter, but not rusty. It tastes like I gargled a bowl of sulfur. There’s a pair of bright blue eyes mixed in with all the blood, but I can’t focus. My brain’s all cotton and radio buzz.

I was tortured, that much I can tell. I’m not bleedin’ right now, but there’s a nasty new row of scars on my arms and it feels like a truck slammed into my back a dozen times. I checked the mirror and now I got a puffy pink handprint on my shoulder. It’s the freshest of the scars, but it doesn’t hurt. Touching it gives me heartburn.

I creak when I walk. I think I lost a good twenty pounds, maybe more.  

I snagged a few bags of chips, a bottle of beer, and some coins for the payphone outside. Praying that Bobby picks up the damn phone this time around.

Noon(?)

Bobby got me about an hour ago. He tested me, but up a hell of a fight, but we’re good now. We stopped by Sam’s place to let him know I’m free. Ruby was there. I remember her voice.

6PM

Pamela gave me a name to go after. She put her hand on my shoulder and felt something big. We tried to call it, but she…she got hurt. Her eyes burned out of their sockets. We couldn’t do a damn thing.

But we have a name.

Castiel.


	3. LOG 9999-000-1

**Initial capture of SCP-9999**

Date: 09-18-2008, 11:58PM

Personnel 08-0120-050-1 (here-on referred to as “Bobby”) and I located  SCP-9999 (here-on referred to as “Castiel”)  _ ~~Dean, I located you~~_  [Note: Do not complete logs around Castiel. It insists on providing commentary over your shoulder! Backseat driver....] in Pontaic, Illinois via summoning ritual. Loud crashes and thumps alerted the personnel to Castiel’s arrival. As far as we could tell, it fell off the roof. Maybe after flying? As Castielapproached Bobby and me, all electrical appliances in the area short-circuited or exploded. Flames, sparks, the whole shebang. It wore a suit, blue tie, and brown overcoat. Bobby and I shot it repeatedly with no response.

I asked it who it was. Instead of giving me a straight answer, it told me that it "griped me tight and raised me from Perdition". I rolled my eyes, spat out a thanks, and stabbed it. Bobby pulled his knife, but Castiel knocked him out with two friggin' fingers.

"We need to talk Dean," Castiel insisted. "Alone."

I leaned over and checked Bobby's

"Your friend's alive." ~~ _I wouldn't have harmed him_~~

"Who are you?" I asked again.

It told me its name, the one SCP-9999-1(here-on referred to as Pamela) gave us before the incident.

"Yeah, I figured that much, I mean  _what_  are you?"

"I'm an Angel of the Lord."

I couldn't stop myself from laughing. SCP don't always know they're SCP, you know? "Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing."

Castiel sighed. It seemed wary, but confident, like it didn't have any intention of trying to prove itself.

"Some angel you are," I remarked. "You burned out that poor woman's eyes."

"I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be... overwhelming to humans, and so can my real voice. But you already knew that."

I recalled the incident back at the motel that ended up with Bobby his ears to hold the blood in his head. 

"You mean the motel. That was you talking?" Castiel nodded eagerly. "Buddy, next time, lower the volume. You almost blew Bobby's brain all over the place."

"That was my mistake. Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought..." It trailed off, looking at Bobby and then at me. "I assumed you would be in the room."

I ignored that. 

"And what visage are you in now, huh? What, holy tax accountant?"

Castiel closed its mouth and stared at me with its big, blue eyes. I couldn't look away even though I knew my eyes probably would burn for it. Then, it blinked.

It pronounced a mission onto me from Heaven. It said the apocalypse is coming, and Heaven needs my help.  I then pinned it to the ground and cuffed it with pure iron cuffs. It did not struggle; it may have wanted to be captured. Unknown.

Castiel remained complacent the transport to Area-1967.

Logged by Dean Winchester, 01-0240-079-1


	4. SCP-9999

Item #: SCP-9999

Class: Keter

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-9999 is contained at Armed Containment Area-1967, Subsection 03. Standard telepathic countermeasures have proven insufficient in the past. SCP-9999 can be contained if surrounded by fire. See Clearance-04 Containment Procedures 90990 for more information.

Description: SCP-9999 is a sentient humanoid creature with two large, transparent wings protruding from its back. Approximating at 1.8 meters in height, it weighs nearly 76 kilograms. It has brown hair and blue eyes. When agitated, SCP-9999’s eyes glow in a shade of blue and sigils in an unknown language (L -9999) can be seen all over the body. Its language skills appear to be limitless, and it has been heard speaking fluent English, French, German, Italian, Spanish, and Russian. However, it chooses not to speak with personnel aside from 01-0240-079-1. SCP-9999 requests to be called “Castiel”, but will respond to “Cas”.

SCP-9999 demonstrates strong telepathic and telekinetic abilities within a range of 100 meters or less. There appears to be no limitation to the size of objects SCP-9999 can influence. SCP-9999 claims to have control over both of these abilities. Personnel handlings SCP-9999 are advised to keep eyes down at all times; subjects known to engage in sustained eye contact have lost their eyesight due to localized combustion. It is currently undetermined if combustion is willful or accidental. Affected subjects, SCP-9999-1, claim to have seen a figure before losing their sight.

When given paper, SCP-9999 fills pages with L-9999. Studies find text to be an archaic version of Enochian. Portions of text have been translated, but have come to mean nothing substantial; these include: words  “tree”, “horse”, “fiddler crab”, and phrase: “You breed with the mouth of a goat”.

 


	5. Personnel 01-0240-079-1

**Job Title:**

| 

Containment Specialist

| 

**Clearance:**

| 

Class C  
  
---|---|---|---  
  
**Department/Group:**

| 

Site Staff/Field Personnel

| 

**Job Code/ Req#:**

| 

01-0240-079-1  
  
**Location:**

| 

Lebanon, Kansas

| 

**Travels:**

| 

Daily  
  
**HR Contact:**

| 

04-0220-054-1

| 

**Name:**

| 

Dean Winchester  
  
**Trained Apprentices:**

| 

05-0020-083-1

| 

**Height/Weight:**

| 

1.85 m, 84 kg  
  
**Physical Status:**

| 

Cleared

| 

**Mental/Emotional Status:**

| 

Cleared  
  
**Anomalous Activity:**  
  
**Investigated:**

SCP-9054: See forms 10203-A, 10203-B, 10203-D, 12728-A

SCP-6767: See forms 10205-A, 10618

 

| 

**Contained:**

SCP-6767: See form 20011

SCP-9999: See form 0918, log 9999  
  
**Job Description**  
  
**Role and Responsibilities**

  *          Respond to confirmed cases of anomalous activity: secure and establish initial containment over anomalous objects, entities, or phenomena and transport them to the Area-1967.
  *          Devise, refine, and maintain containment units and schemes for objects, entities, and phenomena
  *          Investigate signs of anomalous activity, often undercover with local or regional law enforcement or embedded in local services such as emergency medical services and regulatory organizations.
  *          Respond to confirmed cases of anomalous activity: secure and establish initial containment over anomalous objects, entities, or phenomena and transport them to the Area-1967.



**Qualifications and Education**

GED obtained April 17, 1995, experience with SCP from 1984 and on

**Skills**

Knife and gun combat, leadership training, able to work under pressure and to meet deadlines, familiarity with records and personnel administration, flexible and adaptable, advanced training in hand-to hand combat

**Additional Notes**

Past penalties for being unable to conform to rules and structure  
  
**Reviewed By:**

| 

04-0220-054-1

| 

**Date:**

| 

January 24, 1997  
  
**Approved By:**

| 

04-0220-054-1

| 

**Date:**

| 

January 24, 1997  
  
**Last Updated By:**

| 

01-0240-079-1

| 

**Date/Time:**

| 

September 18, 2008  
  
 


	6. Personnel 08-0120-050-1

**Job Title:**

| 

Containment Specialist

| 

**Clearance:**

| 

Class B  
  
---|---|---|---  
  
**Department/Group:**

| 

Site Staff/Field Personnel

| 

**Job Code/ Req#:**

| 

08-0120-050-1  
  
**Location:**

| 

Lebanon, Kansas

| 

**Travels:**

| 

Occasionally  
  
**HR Contact:**

| 

04-0220-054-1

| 

**Name:**

| 

Robert Singer  
  
**Trained Apprentices:**

| 

01-0240-079-1

05-0020-083-1

| 

**Height/Weight:**

| 

1.81 m, 83.9 kg  
  
**Physical Status:**

| 

Cleared

| 

**Mental/Emotional Status:**

| 

Cleared  
  
**Anomalous Activity:**  
  
**Investigated:**

SCP-9054: See forms 10203-A, 10203-B, 10203-D, 12728-A

SCP-6767: See forms 10205-A, 10618

 

| 

**Contained:**

SCP-6767: See form 20011

SCP-9999: See form 0918  
  
**Job Description**  
  
**Role and Responsibilities**

  *          Respond to confirmed cases of anomalous activity: secure and establish initial containment over anomalous objects, entities, or phenomena and transport them to the Area-1967.
  *          Devise, refine, and maintain containment units and schemes for objects, entities, and phenomena
  *          Investigate signs of anomalous activity, often undercover with local or regional law enforcement or embedded in local services such as emergency medical services and regulatory organizations.
  *          Respond to confirmed cases of anomalous activity: secure and establish initial containment over anomalous objects, entities, or phenomena and transport them to the Area-1967.



**Qualifications and Education**

Some high school education, otherwise self-taught, experience with SCP from 1970 and on

**Skills**

Knife and gun combat, able to work under pressure and to meet deadlines, familiarity with records and personnel administration, flexible and adaptable, advanced training in intelligence gathering and crew organization

**Additional Notes**

Dislikes being referred to as a “secretary”; assigns responsibilities well. Overall jackass, but good worker.  
  
**Reviewed By:**

| 

04-0220-054-1

| 

**Date:**

| 

August 08, 1980  
  
**Approved By:**

| 

04-0220-054-1

| 

**Date:**

| 

August 09, 1980  
  
**Last Updated By:**

| 

01-0240-079-1

| 

**Date/Time:**

| 

September 18, 2008  
  
 

 


	7. LOG 9999-001-1

**Initial Introduction of SCP-9999**

Date: 09-19-2008, 3:49AM

Castiel settled into Area-1967 fairly quickly. It entered its room – white walls and white floors, two bookcases, a desk, and a bed – with its head held high. It doesn’t seem to care whether it’s captured or not. So far, Castiel shows no need to eat, drink, or even take a piss. It doesn't ask for anything nor answer any inquiries about its health. It remains still in its designated room and reads various novels supplied by 05-0020-083-1 (here-on referred to as “Sam”).

Sam visited Castiel briefly, though it didn't pay much attention to him. It just kept its head in the damn book and mumbled a few foreign words. Sam watched it carefully. He insists we photograph it just in case it does get away. I don't blame him; Castiel's wings are massive, and really, really friggin' impressive. They shimmer a pale blue at some angles, but look like a shadow at others. They're totally transparent - "They exist on another plane," Castiel says - and intangible. While we tested this, it muttered about the sensation being feathery. Ha.

Castiel seemed neutral to my presence as I took measurements, asked it general information, etc. It didn't avoid giving any answers.

Castiel picked at his overcoat. More than once, it almost dropped the thing on the ground and rolled up his sleeves. Note: get the damn heater fixed. It's almost 80 degrees in here. I offered Castiel lighter clothing, but it refused. It said our attention was making it antsy, and that the heat wasn't a bother. Whatever, I had Sam bring him a t-shirt and jeans. He left them on the desk.

Castiel's skin is unblemished. Not a freckle, scar, or mole. It's kind of creepy. ~~He's~~ It's like a baby in a trenchcoat. Its wings can fade in and out of view, but it prefers to keep them hidden. When I finished measuring them, it snapped them out of view and sat on the bed. 

Sam left us to help Bobby file the last case's paperwork. Castiel relaxed greatly when we were alone. I'm not sure what to do with that, but our future meetings will be one-on-one if I have any say in the matter. It seems way more comfortable alone than with a crowd.

I sat at the desk and asked him about his abilities for half an hour, took hair, skin, and blood samples. Note: it bleeds red, just like us. Weird. 

Castiel asked how long it would take for me to complete our tests.

I didn’t answer.

Castiel and I finished all required paperwork in one and half hours. We were fucking bushed after. Throughout the process, it offered information about other “angels” and Heaven, not that I oppose, but that added a good twenty or so minutes to our time. 

"There are many of us. Soldiers, medics as you would call them, bureaucrats. We’re a race of people just as you; our only difference lies in our home and our purpose. I am made to serve the Host of Heaven," it explained as it tugged on the sheets disdainfully. I eyed it curiously as it unraveled a portion of the fabric.

"Right, and I’m Elvis Presley," I snorted, gathering up the papers. I placed them in Castiel's shiny new  **SCP-9999**  folder and leaned back in my chair. I intended on taking a few seconds to rest, but it spoke before I could close my eyes.

"Your name is Dean Winchester," it said in a confused tone. I had to bite back a laugh. Note: Castiel shows a lack of sense of humor/pop culture knowledge. I reached for a book from the self - Lord of the Rings - and it picked up the novel on its right. We read, I JR Tolkien and it Vonnegut, in silence. Halfway through the book, my eyes ached and my eyelids practically dragged on the floor. I put the book down on the desk.

"What’s Heaven like, Castiel?" I asked softly. I yawned and scratched the back of my head.

It paused before answering. "It’s a collection of the most satisfying moments in a person’s life."

"So when I die, I get a ticket to Dean’s Greatest Hits? Sweet."

Castiel continued reading, a smile on the corner of its lips. Progress.

Logged by Dean Winchester, 01-0240-079-1


	8. Personnel 05-0020-083-1

**Job Title:**

| 

Containment Specialist

| 

**Clearance:**

| 

Class C  
  
---|---|---|---  
  
**Department/Group:**

| 

Site Staff/Field Personnel

| 

**Job Code/ Req#:**

| 

05-0020-083-1  
  
**Location:**

| 

Lebanon, Kansas

| 

**Travels:**

| 

Daily  
  
**HR Contact:**

| 

04-0220-054-1

| 

**Name:**

| 

Sam Winchester  
  
**Trained Apprentices:**

| 

N/A

| 

**Height/Weight:**

| 

1.94 m, 102 kg  
  
**Physical Status:**

| 

Cleared

| 

**Mental/Emotional Status:**

| 

Cleared  
  
**Anomalous Activity:**  
  
**Investigated:**

SCP-9054: See forms 10203-A, 10203-B, 10203-D, 12728-A

SCP-6767: See forms 10205-A, 10618

 

| 

**Contained:**

SCP-6767: See form 20011

   
  
Job Description  
  
**Role and Responsibilities**

  *          Respond to confirmed cases of anomalous activity: secure and establish initial containment over anomalous objects, entities, or phenomena and transport them to the Area-1967.
  *          Devise, refine, and maintain containment units and schemes for objects, entities, and phenomena
  *          Investigate signs of anomalous activity, often undercover with local or regional law enforcement or embedded in local services such as emergency medical services and regulatory organizations.
  *          Respond to confirmed cases of anomalous activity: secure and establish initial containment over anomalous objects, entities, or phenomena and transport them to the Area-1967.



**Qualifications and Education**

GED obtained April 17, 1995, experience with SCP from 1985 and on

**Skills**

Knife and gun combat, able to work under pressure and to meet deadlines, familiarity with records and personnel administration, flexible and adaptable, advanced training in intelligence gathering and manipulation

**Additional Notes**

Past penalties for being unable to conform to rules and structure  
  
**Reviewed By:**

| 

04-0022-01954-1

| 

**Date:**

| 

May 02, 1999  
  
**Approved By:**

| 

04-0022-01954-1

| 

**Date:**

| 

May 02, 1999  
  
**Last Updated By:**

| 

04-0022-01954-1

| 

**Date/Time:**

| 

May 02, 1999  
  
 


	9. LOG ????-000-1

**Power Outage, Electrical Storms**

Date: 9-20-2008, 7:22PM

Bobby and I steered clear of Castiel for a while. We had bigger things on our hands. The eastern seaboard went ballistic; almost half of California went without power for seven hours. They say it was a freak accident, that a bird got caught in some important cogs and short-circuited the whole thing. This? This is something we've never seen before. Not since the outbreak of SCP-6000s. It reminds me vaguely of Castiel, but bigger and badder. No burnt eyeballs yet, but things aren't looking good.

Nebraska got slammed with electrical storms. The worst of it slammed the Roadhouse. Personnel 04-0070-085-1 (here-on referred to as "Jo") and 10-0100-065-1 (here-on referred to as "Ellen") are a-okay, but hundreds of SCP broke out. Not the playful little fuckers, either. SCP-6661 (here-on referred to as "Azazel") and 6663 (here-on referred to as "Meg"). Ellen's faxing over a list of everything that's gone missing. I wish I could say that the Cali problems are a direct result, but the reality of the situation is there's no way in Hell they all ran half-way across the country to screw with powerlines. There's a bigger picture here, and I can't quite make it out.

Sam and I rang a few field specialists in the area, but no dice. No one's seen any black-eyed sons-a-bitches or anything else out of the ordinary.

SCP-6660 (here-on referred to as "Ruby") snuck into the Bunker. She threatened Baby if I tried to kill her again, so I stabbed her in the hand. Sam wasn't happy. 

Ruby knows a little about the big happenings. She mentioned the apocalypse - jeez, do all SCP have to be pessimists - and almost yakked on my feet when I mentioned Castiel. Apparently, SCP-6000s know about it and others like it, and they are  _scared_. Definitely not letting it out of our sight.

Logged by Dean Winchester, 01-0240-079-1


	10. LOG 9999-005-1

****Vessel? Look up: James Novak** **

Date: 9-23-2008, 6:00PM

“So,” I started. I pulled up my chair and tapped my pencil on the desk. Repeatedly. That shit bothers Cas more than anything, pointless motion. Personally, I find it comforting, like a metronome or a lullaby. It scribbled in the notebook. I thought about asking what it was writing, but I knew it would tell me if it honestly wanted me to know. After about a thousand taps, Castiel looked up at me.

“Yes, Dean?”

“Back at the barn.” I waited for recognition. “You said that people can’t handle your true visage. So what’s that?” I waved at its whole get up.

It looked down at its clothes. “An AC/DC Shirt and poly-synthetic jeans.”

“No, what – who – are you wearing?”

“Oh,” Castiel blinked. “This is my vessel.”

I started, flinching away on instinct. “You're possessing some poor bastard?”

Cas seemed offended almost, like it was dirty to even think about doing that. “No. I- He's a devout man, he actually prayed for this.”

I thought about this for a second. “He have a name?”

“James. James Novak,” Cas said. “He was a father to Claire Novak, and a husband to Amelia Novak. His family was…upset when I arrived. I assure you, I didn’t take him away from them without compromise. I healed Amelia of her breast cancer and extended her life span by approximately ten years.”

Okay, whoa. “Why not take someone who, I don’t know, didn’t have a family?”

Castiel’s eyebrows arched together. “There are certain rules to manifesting - bloodlines that must be followed – the Novak family line is mine.”

“Poor Jimmy,” I rubbed a hand over my face.

“Poor you,” he shot back.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Cas?”

Castiel froze, and then shrugged. “Your bloodline is talked highly of in Heaven.”

I didn’t hear the door slam shut behind me.

Logged by Dean Winchester, 01-0240-079-1


	11. LOG 9999-006-1

**Smartass ~~Angel~~ SCP ~~~~**

Date: 9-24-2008, 1:15PM

I carried in a bag of grub the next time I visited Castiel. Fuck him if he doesn’t ever eat. He’ll have to watch me inhale a ton of burgers and fries. I was hungry, and I had work to do.

Castiel was confused when he saw the Castlehouse bag, but he kept his yap shut. I like to pretend it’s because he learned that insinuating I could be possessed or whatever by one of those things – the angels – was way over the line.

I nibbled on my burger and read the little bit I could find about Jimmy Novak. All in all, he was a good guy. No criminal record, professor at some big time college, Christian but not in the holier-than-thou kind of way. He owned a little house in Illinois with Amelia for only a year before Cas took him away. Cas stood over my shoulder and read the two and a half pages I had on his vessel.

“I could have told you any information you wanted about James,” he replied. “When an angel takes a vessel, a portion of their consciousness melds with our own. There’s a bleed of information."

“So if I let you ride my bones, you’d know what color my first bike was and who I dated in high school?” I replied sarcastically.

“No, I can only gleam important events, such as Claire’s birth and meeting Amelia. Regardless, I wouldn’t be allowed to ‘ride your bones’.” Cas actually made airquotes. I don’t know where he learned them from, but he did it. I wish I had a camera to record it.

“Bloodlines. Gotcha,” I said, chowing down on another burger. Cas looked at it curiously. His eyes followed the sandwich from the bag, to my hand, to my mouth, and I swear they dragged a little on my lips… “Dude, do you ever eat?”

“I don’t need to. My grace fuels this body.” He didn’t look away from the bag, though.

“But do you want to?” Castiel tilted his head.

“Why would I _want_ to consume grease-covered flesh?”

“Aw, hell. You’re not one of those types, are you?” I groaned. Castiel just looked at me. “You know. Vegan.”

“I have nothing against meat. I just see no appeal. The flavor seems - ” I grabbed his wrist and plopped a burger in his hand.

“Just try a bite,” I insisted. “It’s one of the good parts of humanity. Food, sex, booze. Pie.”

Castiel stared at it. If I didn’t know better, I’d say from the stank face that he wanted to shove the thing up my ass, but the little crease between his eyes said he was curious. Slowly, he tested the sandwich. He chewed it for a solid two minutes before he decided _these are fucking good_ and ate the rest. I passed him the bag.

“Liking that greasy flesh, huh?” I winked. He groaned.

“Jimmy associates this taste with happy memories. Memory bleed.”

I nodded. “Okay, sure.”

Not five minutes later, the bag was empty and I finished up my reading. Just as I was about to open my mouth, he cut me off.

“There’s been supernatural activity lately, correct?”

“SCP, yeah. All down the coast of California. How’d you know?”

Castiel shifted. “I’m not the only angel that descended upon Earth.”

“How’s that?” I asked, snapping my eyes on his. Cas held my gaze, and I felt a warm rumble in the back of my head.

“I said I’m not the only angel to manifest on Earth.”

I snatched my notebook. “A name, Cas. I need a name.”

“Zachariah.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, writing it down. He grabbed my wrist.

“Be careful. You’re not fully aware of the danger you’re embracing.”

“Please, danger’s my middle name.”

And with that, I left.

Logged by Dean Winchester, 01-0240-079-1


End file.
